The Humphrey Appeal
by emily.down
Summary: "I mean you should do something with your life. At least meet new people. I don't think Georgina and Vanessa have caused irreparable damage. Go out and let others see the Humphrey appeal." Beat. "The what?"
1. Chapter 1

**_Alright, so I am not a huge Gossip Girl fan and never have been (for reasons more or less personal), but if there is one thing this show has me in love with it's Blair and Dan, separately and together._**

**_These two bring out the amazing in each other and I just can't get enough of their friendship. It's as if Blair is a pair of gloves which fit perfectly on Dan's hands, as creepy as that simile might sound. I don't understand why these two weren't the focus from the beginning, as a possible couple, but then again, if they had been, it might have gone awfully wrong (let's not forget the main couple of this show and that tragic outcome). Still, I could replace most of this show with just these two verbally sparring and it would be enough. They are that awesome.  
><em>**

**_I'm hoping for them to hook up, especially since it's been made pretty obvious they both have feelings for each other. But, knowing this show, it will probably not happen, so I thought I should finally a write a piece on them so I could at least have my version in my head and share it with people who agree._**

**_Now, I've been watching this show sporadically, so don't be too upset if I don't hit all this show's inner references.  
><em>**

**_Anyhow, this story takes place between season 4 and 5, because I suppose the next season will skip summer? I have no idea. Either way, you can place it in that timeline._**

**_I'm not sure if I'll keep it a oneshot or not, but feel free to give advice._**

**_Hope you enjoy._**

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><p>She was halfway through a rant about why Quentin Tarantino is highly overrated and how <em>Reservoir Dogs<em> was a shameless guilty-pleasure project, when all of a sudden, Dan Humphrey cut her off, feeling the need to remind her the time.

"Not that I don't appreciate some good arguments against Tarantino, but it's been...yes, three hours and fifteen minutes almost."

Blair stopped shortly.

"Oh. Really? _Three_? It couldn't have been more than two, I'm sure of it."

The simple fact that she still thought two hours of nonstop talking was normal made him smile.

"I mean I would know if so much time had passed. Someone would have come and told me I have to get up and ready for yet another meeting with a long-lost royal relative. God, there are so many scattered cousins."

He didn't fail to see the humour in the term "scattered cousins". But he remembered it was about midnight when they started talking.

"Wait, isn't it like three in the morning there? Don't tell me you can't even tell the difference anymore, Waldorf."

Blair made a face in her phone.

"We get up at five," she said, sounding resigned.

"Still two hours to go then and..._ouch_."

"You'd think that becoming the wife of a monarch and thus a monarch by extension would entitle me to some resting hours, but no, I must be at their beck and call, like a disposable recipient with no free will. But I won't bore you. I've complained enough."

"Oh, no please, keep going, I want to hear your misery so I can muster the necessary compassion to pity a _princess_," he mocked.

Truth be told, she had been complaining about it for some weeks now, but it was a normal reaction. She had expected hardship. She was ready for it. She just needed to talk about it sometimes.

"You, of all people, should be more sympathetic and let me rant in my time of need."

"Me? Because I know the pains of royalty?"

"No, Humphrey. Because you know what it's like trying to please everyone."

Dan flinched.

"You do know we have that in common, right?"

Blair turned on her side and took a look at her alarm clock. _Damn_, it had been three hours.

"What? Breathing? Because right now we don't even share the same air," she replied, avoiding his question.

"Well, it's a step. You once claimed we had nothing in common."

Blair shifted her body in her bed nervously. There were too many stupid pillows around her.

She threw a couple on the floor.

"Well, what could I say? That we share passionate interests and we should keep having brunches in the city? What's the use? Our friendship was doomed from the start."

"I wouldn't say doomed. We're not having such a bad time now, are we?"

Blair rolled her eyes. She hated when he played daft.

"Humphrey, I'm getting _married_. That means we'll be seeing each other less and less, not only because I will be busy with hundreds of social events that will cancel out my already thinning patience, but also because I have to stand by Louis all the time, no matter country or time zone, and not that I have a burning desire to witness the poor ensemble of a tortured artist you put on, but a friendship can't survive through excessive phone talking."

Dan knew this was Blair's inaccurate way of saying she needed to actually see him, not just talk to him. And he was loath to admit he felt the same way, although phone worked fine for him at the moment. Better than nothing anyway, he kept telling himself to avoid the bitter thoughts.

But he chose to say something else instead. Something he had told her before, one way or another, but which deserved another try, if nothing else. (it was becoming a philosophy of his, the _nothing else_)

"Well, is that going to make you happy?"

He had launched the million-dollar question. The "is this really what you want?" gimmick of every princess scenario, the _Roman Holiday_ of his life. Although, this was Blair, so it was bound to be less sunshine and more headaches.

"What are you talking about?"

"Well, those social events, the political responsibilities, standing by His Majesty 24/7..."

She sighed.

"Don't misunderstand me. I know I've made them sound like toils. Well, they are actually, and they will be difficult, but not insurmountable and I have been trained for this all my life, they only sound challenging in theory, but once I actually..."

"That's not what I meant, Waldorf. I _know_ you can handle all your royal responsibilities. You've always acted like a dictator around here, no point in thinking you couldn't take on an actual country."

"Then?"

"Do you _want_ to handle it?"

"That is ridiculous, all throughout high school I – "

"Yes, you were very happy and fulfilled keeping your status intact and harvesting as many minions as possible," he commented, rolling his eyes.

"But even then, Blair," he continued, feeling he was about to make a point, "you enjoyed it, you enjoyed going through all that mess, you loved the hassle, even if it was doing you more harm than good. Now it sounds like you're not even getting much out of it. You actually feel obligated to act the way you thought was normal, three years ago."

"So what you are saying is that this _princess_ business is no fun for me and that what I really need to do is get back to the sixteen year-old mindset?"

Dan sighed. She could be so daft, when she wanted to.

"No, Waldorf, quite the opposite."

"Have I mentioned that, for a writer, words are not your forte?" she exclaimed annoyed.

"As impossible as it seems to me and everyone else...you've changed, Blair. You're no longer the teen brat who treated the Upper East Side like her personal playground. You've got past the insufferable Queen Bee persona. You don't enjoy making people your subjects. You don't even want to shatter lives and dreams anymore. You have a more...realistic view on life. You're no longer a _princess_. That's why I thought you wouldn't want to step back into that old routine. That's why you don't really enjoy it, becoming a _princess_ again."

Dan hated that the speech had sounded too practiced, even for him, but after weeks of waiting for the right moment to say it, now was as good a time as any.

There was silence, of course, as Blair went over every single word with the precision of a watch maker.

"I stand corrected, I suppose. You...you do have a way with words," she mumbled more to herself.

Dan waited patiently for her to go on. Surely she wouldn't close in on herself and decide to freeze him for an entire week again, would she?

He shook his head. This wasn't like their first kiss. She wouldn't bolt.

He waited, counting the minutes and switching the phone from one ear to another, his hands as hot as the thing itself. He heard her breathing evenly.

"Well?" he asked, after another round of silence.

"We should get back on track. We have three movies left to discuss," she said at length.

"...so, we should just ignore what we were talking about?"

"Well, there's no point going any further with _Reservoir Dogs_," she played dumb. "We both agreed it was mediocre. Speaking of Tarantino, I'm not a big fan of _Pulp Fiction_ either. I mean, let's not even start with the cacophonic art direction and punch-lines meant to copy other better styles, but the script is juvenile. I mean, Mia's speech about two people sharing a comfortable silence was the most farcical thing I've heard in years."

Dan closed his eyes in resignation. Of course. His speech had come and gone and she had cowardly reverted to their safety net which was what they had in common after all. (Pop) Culture.

"Maybe it was meant to be farcical."

"Come on, Humphrey. No one is that subtle, not Tarantino either way."

"Comfortable silences between two people seem so far-fetched to you?"

"No. The idea that that's all it takes for two people to get along. For them to be comfortable in silence. They need to talk. Communication is unavoidable. And if that communication is stale, no amount of silences will make up for it. Trust me, I know, I've dated Nate."

"He's not such a stellar friend, either, so I can't disagree," Dan said, chuckling to himself. "I've talked more with you in one day than with him in two years."

Blair smiled, strangely content to hear that.

"Well, it doesn't hurt to have a brain behind that pretty face," she commented.

"Awww, thanks Waldorf," he mocked.

"Ha, ha, Dan. Your sense of humour is as..."

"You called me Dan?"

"What?"

"Just now. You said my name."

"No, I didn't."

"Trust me, I can recognize my name when I hear it. And Humphrey takes a bit longer to say."

"So you are on the lookout if I ever happen to slip your name in? God, you really are starved for attention, aren't you?"

Dan sighed. "The Hamptons aren't doing much for me."

"Not if you spend all your time talking to someone like me," she said, something sad lingering in her voice.

"I...don't mind."

"Well, you should. I mean you should do something with your life. At least meet new people. I don't think Georgina and Vanessa have caused irreparable damage. Go out and let others see the Humphrey appeal."

"The _what_?"

Blair sighed. She knew it would get to his head, but he deserved a bone, didn't he? Especially after what he had said.

She shook her head.

"Serena and I had a talk...about our friendship, and by that I mean the puzzling thing _we_ have going."

"Don't worry, I don't make confusions. Go on."

"I... might have told her I can understand why she dated you or tried to, for so long. You're not half-bad and all that."

"Aha," Dan said, trying hard not to grin like an idiot, "and which one of you lovely ladies coined the "Humphrey appeal"?"

"As it there was something to coin..." she began slightly flustered.

"Hey, I called you dictator of taste, it's only fair you call me appealing," he said, grinning fully.

"I said I could begin to understand the appeal, not that I find you...nevermind, this is becoming increasingly stupid," she said, rubbing her eyes in exhaustion. No sleep, yet again.

"Only for a second there..." he joked.

"My entirely missed point was that you should try and take advantage of your means, and I don't mean financial ones. Publish some of that hilarious writing," she said.

"My turmoil is hilarious to you?" he asked amused.

"Here I am, trying to give you advice and you throw it back in my face. Typical."

"Hey, don't worry about me. I don't have it all figured out, like _you_ do, but I am doing fine."

"That's a gross exaggeration. I do _not_ have it all figured out..." she muttered.

"You're kidding, right?"

He could almost hear Blair fuming on the phone, searching for the right retort. The uncomfortable silence stretched for five minutes, proving that she was right about _Pulp Fiction_.

"You know, I was never a princess, Humphrey," she began, in an eerily stern voice.

"What?"

"I was never a princess. And I am not a princess now. I don't consider myself one, in any case. I never needed a title to rule. I worked for it and I got it. I know, Blair Waldorf actually putting an effort. Well, harvesting minions as you put it, takes time and patience. And have you ever even tried governing over a mass of hysterical adolescents? Have you ever tried carrying the weight of just my _name_, let alone the extraneous title that comes with it, on your shoulders? No, I don't believe you have."

Dan smiled, despite himself.

"I see. I should have known you wouldn't settle for that poor description."

"True, my sixteen-year old self was an immature bitch, but she was still a self-sacrificing one," she added as an after-thought.

Dan opened his mouth in shock. Had Blair Waldorf just called herself "immature bitch"?

No. Way.

"I must say I didn't much care for that immature bitch," he repeated amused.

Hey, it was the only time he'd get to say it.

"That's the only time you'll ever get to say that about me, so enjoy it while it lasts."

He hid a chuckle.

"Well, since I like you a lot more now, that..._person_ must have left the building."

"Yes, that might have happened. Or at least I hope so."

"You do realize you've indirectly agreed to my speech, right?" Dan asked, just to be sure.

"No, I haven't. I might have changed for the better, but I've always been Blair Waldorf, not some outlandish, delusional Upper East Side royalty. Because, being me is hard enough, I don't need _princess_ in the equation," she concluded with determination.

A couple of moments later she realized what she had said.

And she put a palm over her mouth.

Dan knew he shouldn't, but she had said it herself.

No going back now.

"Then what are you still doing there, Blair?" he asked, triumphantly, yet still somewhat disheartened.

This was the only question Blair would leave unanswered.

She had nothing to say. Absolutely nothing.

No reason, no rhyme.

She hung up thirty seconds after that and he sank back into his couch with the feeling that something had either gone right or wrong.


	2. Chapter 2

**_Quick update I know, but I had some free time on my hands (summer is almost over though so this won't be like this for too long)_ _and I decided to continue the story, because I didn't want to leave it just there and I felt encouraged by the responses. I also think these two are adorable, so there. _**

**_Thanks so much to everyone who reviewed and showed support, I'm really grateful. Glad this fandom isn't small. _**

**_Hope you like this chapter as well._**

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><p>"Blair, I know you're probably too busy to call. This is Dan, by the way. I know it's only been five days, but I'm a bit, I'm a bit concerned, about what I said...and how it made you feel. I didn't want to make you uncomfortable or hurt you, those are the last things – I'm sorry, you know best. I know you wouldn't throw yourself into something without thinking it through. This is different, your life is different now, I had no right to make assumptions, despite what you said. I don't want this to...cause a rift between us. I mean we're barely friends as it is, I don't want us to be strangers again. I guess I should stop talking now before I make it worse. I hope you're okay. Uh, call me, if you can – and want to."<p>

Blair threw her phone in the middle of the bed. He was such a liar. She knew he was just apologizing to get on her good side again, but that, deep down, he still believed every word he had said.

She had listened to his message three times now, and his words still sounded like a jumbled, incoherent mess. She shook her head amused. He was such a child sometimes. Thinking she would torment herself over one question.

She sat down in front of her dressing table and put her head in her hands.

Her fingers stabbed her forehead repeatedly.

"Stop wasting time, Blair," she muttered to herself. "You can't turn around and quit."

She punctured her scalp with every single word she uttered. It felt like she was trying to push the words inside.

She looked up in the mirror.

"You can't quit," she said firmly.

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><p>"Hi, it's me again, Dan. I know it's probably inconvenient to remind you, but it's been twelve days now. I'm not keeping count, it's just that we talked almost every day and it's a bit odd not to hear from you at all. I'm keeping busy, writing a bit, reading, watching movies by myself. Boring, I know. You probably have so much going on. I hope you're all right. Uh, stay hydrated, the temperatures there are crazy – I caught the news. I'm sorry again, for what I said. You can call, if you want."<p>

Claudette, Louis' sister-in-law, tapped her shoulder briefly.

Blair almost jumped out of her seat. She lowered the phone.

"Are you speaking to someone?" she asked, trying to sound nonchalant.

Blair worked her frown into a sweet, complaisant smile and shook her head.

"Oh, no, I am only listening to some of my messages."

"Are they that long, darling? It's been a while," Claudette replied, laughing awkwardly.

Blair narrowed her eyes. She had been watching her then.

"I have left many friends behind," she answered politely.

"But they will be here soon, won't they?"

Blair shut her phone with a click. "Yes, soon."

* * *

><p>"Fifteen days. I know, not a big deal, but it's been a fortnight and a day in Victorian terms. Albeit, that did sound a bit idiotic but you get my point. I really hope you're okay. The New York Times has a small article on you. I almost choked on my food. It's a piece of garbage. Don't bother reading it. I will personally write to them. Anyhow, I've been rewatching <em>A Streetcar Named Desire<em>, and Vivien Leigh is almost unbearable sometimes. Is it just me? I used to like her more as a child. I am growing cynical. What have you been up to? A lot, probably. I hope you're not upset. Hope to hear from you soon. But it's fine if I don't."

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><p>"You know who this is. Stop sending me absurd little messages. I have better things to do than to listen to you prattle on about how you fill the void of your existence. As to your ridiculous assumptions, no, I am not upset or in any way affected by anything you might have said. I don't obsess over everything you say, like you do. And blame Blanche DuBois, not Vivien Leigh. The character is <em>supposed<em> to be unbearable to watch. Also, I am _extremely_ busy."

Dan suddenly felt a pair of soft hands cover his eyes.

"Guess who, little brother? Oh, damn, blew my cover already."

"Jenny," he turned, hugging her.

"Who were you talking to?"

"No one. I was...ordering pizza," he said, shutting his phone quickly.

"In silence? For ten minutes?" she asked, a puzzled and amused expression on her face.

"How long have you been standing there?"

"A while. You seemed really focused. I thought it was an emergency or something," she said, dropping her purse on one of the sofas.

"No, just some message."

"From?"

"Nate," he lied, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

Jenny's smile faded a little. "Oh, what did he want?"

"I can't even remember – some stuff about catching up and meeting in the city soon," he said, not really paying attention.

"He is not one to leave messages. And isn't he off with Bass on the cruise of a lifetime?"

"Ah, now it makes sense why I was hearing bottles breaking," he joked.

"Oh, cool, I wanna listen too! He's probably wasted!" she said, snatching his phone.

With a swift move, Dan quickly pulled the phone out of her hand and deleted the message, walking away from her.

"Jeez, you could have just told me...weirdo..." Jenny huffed in frustration.

"Sorry, private stuff," he said lamely, hoping she would not try to question him any further. He was already fed up with this entire situation as it was. There was no need to think about it more than he already did. He knew it was occupying his mind in all the wrong ways. He caught himself smiling. Blair's advice came back to mind; there was so much irony in her telling him to go meet new people and stop talking to her.

He should follow up on it, though. After all, not even she could deny the so-called appeal.

* * *

><p>"I'm still torn about Vivien Leigh. Maybe that's a good sign. Maybe she's doing something right. Sorry about the <em>absurd<em> messages, it's my only way to speak to you since you will not answer any of my calls. Okay, I will admit they are a bit ridiculous, but I didn't want us to end on bad terms. Not that I want an end to our friendship. But I thought messages would be appropriate, considering the situation. I'll try and leave you alone, take care."

Blair rested her warm body against the cool surface of the shower tiles. She didn't want to draw a bath tonight. Showers were a lot more invigorating anyway. Her phone was placed precariously on the top shelf of a bathroom cabinet.

She spat some of the water on the floor and started giggling for no reason.

"Stupid Humphrey," she said, panting between laughs.

* * *

><p>Before night fell and she was once again, standing on the edge of her bed, perusing a history book, she received another call from Dan. He called her once a day at about the same hour.<p>

She rejected the call as usual.

But this time, she wrote him a message instead.

_The past bores me to no end. Stop calling. I will call when I feel it's necessary. Not now, though._

Dan read the message five times before deleting it quickly. No telling if Jenny would drop by again and look through his phone.

When she said the past, did he mean her past, his past, _their_ past, if he could be so presumptuous?

There was no way to tell with her.


End file.
